


Reruns are the worst.

by WhatATime



Series: I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Damian returns, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, I wrote this instead of studying, Introspection, Reading the rest of the series isn't required but it'll make it more fun, Return, Setting to the rest of the series, but not all introspection, enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 07:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatATime/pseuds/WhatATime
Summary: His father dragged him back kicking and screaming.





	Reruns are the worst.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the start to the next part of the series! The majority of these will be one-shots, I think, except for one 3 chapter thingie in the works.
> 
> Enjoy!

His father dragged him back kicking and screaming. That was the American idiom for it anyway (he had kicked). He didn’t come voluntarily. Why would he? He was obviously more welcome with Ra’s than his father. He was more welcome with the League, where rules and strictures were all he had. Better off there than in Gotham where nothing seemed to stick.

 

“Open,” Tim demanded monotonously.

Damian frowned.

“Open.” Tim waved a tongue depressor.

Damian shook his head.

“Would you rather me or Leslie do it?”

He didn’t respond.

“That’s not an option.” Tim scoffed. “Stop being a brat.”

Damian opened his mouth.

Tim rolled his eyes as he pushed the smooth stick on Damian’s tongue. “How’s your eye feel?” Tim removed the tongue depressor.

 

Damian slipped away and headed up the stairs to the manor, ignoring Tim’s calls for him. He turned a corner and ducked into an unremembered room. He crawled under a sofa. He lightly touched his swollen closed eye with his index finger.

 

He sighed. He didn’t want to be back here. He didn’t want to be back in Gotham. He’d made his peace with everything he left here, and now he was forced to come back and figure everything out again.

 

Plus, he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Every little thing made him flinch, and he was so tired of being alert. He wanted a break. He needed a break.

 

So, he’d take one.

 

Damian pulled a small notebook and golf pencil from his pocket. Taking a breath, he released himself to his art.

……

Bruce kept his steely expression, pulling his cowl down. The boy wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t acknowledge anyone but Alfred. Bruce wondered why the boy had chosen the old butler to cling to. What could Alfred give him that the rest of them couldn’t?

 

“Master Damian, I believe it’s about time for you to retire.” Alfred put a hand on the young assassin’s shoulder (the uninjured one, of course). “I’ll be out on errands tomorrow…”

Damian stood, allowing Alfred to lead him out of the room.

 

Bruce waited in the cave for a solid couple of hours before heading up the stairs. He hovered in front of Damian’s door before wrapping his hand around the cold brass door knob. He counted down from three before entering the room.

 

Damian was seemingly asleep, nothing suggested he was doing anything besides resting anyway. He laid stiffly on his back, chest rising and falling gently.

Bruce came over and took a seat on the bed. He raised a hand over Damian before settling it on the boy’s middle. After a second, came a click. Bruce couldn’t hold back a smile.

Damian’s eye cracked open.

Bruce sifted through his mind for a question. “How’re you feeling?”

The boy frowned.

Bruce wished he could see him smile. He knew Damian hadn’t wanted to come back to Gotham, but Talia and Ra’s’ actions necessitated it. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t safe. He was putting his foot down. “You understand, don’t you?”

A slow nod.

“I know you prefer to live with Ra’s but--”

 _You’re not so bad, Father._ Damian didn’t smile.

Bruce wished he would, but it wasn’t happening. All his son ever did was frown and scowl and sneer. He wanted to make him smile. Maybe, eventually, he would.

…

“That’s not how you play,” Tim said as Damian moved his checker piece forward a space. “You’re supposed to go diagonally.”

The boy rolled his eyes and shot the teen a look to say ‘what’re you gonna do about it?’

“You’re cheating.”

Damian continued to ignore Tim and collect black game pieces. He stopped when all Tim’s icons were gone then looked up.

“That’s not how you play,” Tim said again.

With a roll of his eyes, Damian stood and left the living room.

“Where’re you going?” Tim was supposed to watch him while Bruce and Alfred were out. The kid hadn’t tried to escape yet, but Tim was being careful. Tim followed Damian to a room before the boy promptly shut the door before Tim could get in. It seemed Damian figured out a way to lock it.

 

Tim took out his lock pick, but it was to no avail. He sighed, sliding down the door frame, ready to face his doom when Alfred and Bruce returned to no Damian.

 

He was still sulking when Dick appeared. “Hey, Tim. D around?”

“Why’re you here?”

Dick’s face fell.

Tim hadn’t meant to be rude. It’d just been a while. Dick had left after a falling out with Bruce. Somehow, some of the other members of the family got involved too. Things were said. People were hurt. Dick disappeared for two months.

“Miss me?”

“Not really.”

Dick shrugged, grin already coming back. “Where’s Damian?”

“Gone probably. Escaped back to Ra’s.”

“How do you know?”

“He locked me out.”

Dick went to the door. He knocked. “Damian? It’s me.” The silence from the other side of the door was met with a scuffling of a barricade and click of a lock.

 

Damian peeked out the door, his bad eye (which had finally stopped swelling enough for Damian to open it) not apparent but the bruising on his nose highlighted by his pale complexion that was usually a darker tan.

“Can I have a hug?”

Damian nodded reluctantly, opening the door wider to let Dick through.

 

Tim sighed. At least Damian was still around. He hated to admit how much he didn’t mind the kid most days.

…

Damian glued himself to Dick. He’d taken to following his older brother around.

Dick eternally had his arm wrapped around the boy.

Tim tried not to be jealous. He’d told Dick to stay away, after all. Told him to leave the manor and never come back. They all had.

 

“How many fingers do I have?”

Damian cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips.

“C’mon…” Dick nudged him.

Damian held up four fingers on each side, leaving his thumbs down.

Dick smiled. “You’re too smart, Lil’ D.”

The boy blushed at the praise.

Tim rolled his eyes. Here they went again.

…

A knock on the door. “Damian? It’s Dick.”

Damian brought his knees to his chest against the wall of his bedroom.

Another knock. “Can I come in?”

No, Dick could not come in. If Damian wanted him to come inside, he’d open the door.

Dick slid down to the floor, humming quietly.

 

Damian sniffled. He hated this. He hated that he could never get anything right. He missed his mother. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. And he missed Ra’s. He missed Ra’s and the man’s winded parables that supposedly led to present greatness. He missed the rare smile of sufficiency and wink from Ra’s’ servants.

 

His father didn’t want him here. He was merely a psychotic murderer to his father, unredeemable in the eyes of the only redeemer. He owed a hundred silver coins but had not even one. He’d beg for more time, but that would be a fruitless endeavor.

 

A knock came again. It didn’t sound like Dick. “Damian, open the door.”

“Bruce, just give him a minute.”

“No. He can’t just--”

“Give him a minute. I think you’ve chewed him out enough anyway.”

 

Damian could feel the man leave. He held his head in his hands. Damian wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to the compound where he had Goliath and the greenhouse and everything made sense. Why couldn’t he go back?

 

He blinked away tears before they could drip down his cheeks.

 

Dick knocked for the umpteenth time.

 

Damian sighed. He slipped on his shoes and climbed out the window. If he tried to leave, his father would most likely catch him, but they wouldn’t keep him from going outside to the outermost edges of the property, he hoped.

 

Here he went again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://whambamthanksbatfam.tumblr.com/
> 
> Hit me up with requests, questions, and/or comments!
> 
> I'll put the next part up tomorrow


End file.
